"You walked into the lion's den, sweetheart," he whispered, stepping closer. "And lions don't let go so easily."
He looked down at her leg, at her trembling hands, and the fear in her eyes.
"A beautiful young girl like you," he chuckled, "shouldn't...
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Mishti—Pov
I was gasping, practically swallowing air. My lungs were on fire, and my legs felt like wobbly noodles, but I just kept pushing. I could hear him gaining on me—Sultan. Ugh, even thinking his name made me sick.
"Mishti!" His voice boomed, close enough to make my blood freeze. It wasn't a call; it was a nasty command. I risked a quick glance back, and my heart slammed against my ribs. He was right there, covering ground with those ridiculously long strides of his. My fear spiked—sharp and cold.
In a split second, I was jerked back, a strong arm wrapping tight around my waist, pulling me hard against his chest. I couldn't breathe. Everything went dizzy. The hot tears I'd been fighting finally broke through, stinging my eyes and blurring his harsh face.
"I didn't want to use force, Mishti," he growled right in my ear, but it sounded totally fake, like he was mocking me.
I let out a raw, broken sob. "How dare you say that?" I choked out, my voice raspy and wrecked. "You... you literally trashed my life! You ruined everything!"
He didn't loosen his grip. Instead, he leaned in. "You shouldn't forget what your parents did," he whispered, his tone chillingly indifferent. "Sultan just did what he was ought to. Kill your parents, and I did that." Every word was a deliberate punch. "You were just a pawn." He actually shivered a bit, but it didn't feel like remorse.
"I still hate you," he went on, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "And I want to see you crying tears of blood, which would be a sight for your dead father to watch from hell."
That did it. My heart, which I'd spent months trying to glue back together piece by agonizing piece, just shattered. It felt like every bit of fragile hope I had left turned to dust right then.
"I want my baby, Mishti," he demanded, suddenly switching gears. "You better give my child back to me. I cannot allow my child to grow up with you in that stupid apartment."
"It's my baby!" I screamed, uselessly trying to twist away. "You divorced me! You're married!"
He got angrier, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at his storm-filled eyes. "Your bloodline is responsible for what I am today. The devil I am." His voice was a low, lethal hiss. "I was a normal, happy kid going to school, but your father destroyed my family, took my father's life,my brother's life, thus turning Sultan into this bloodthirsty, cruel monster mafia."
The history, the vendetta—it all crashed down on me again. I was just the leftover collateral damage in this family war.
"You are going to pay instead of your father," he concluded. "And that is by handing me my child. I dont care what happens to you after that. You are free to go anywhere. But I need my child. And till the child comes, you will be living under my roof, under my surveillance and care."
Live with him? Under his watch? That sounded like pure hell.
"And if you don't agree," he added, his voice dropping to that terrifyingly soft, measured tone, "I will be forced to take ulterior steps. I knowa a lot about your friends."
